Still Crazy After All These Years
by darkcyan
Summary: [One Shot] [Post-Game] How many years has it been? Perched atop a lonely tower, Genis looks back on the world and the people in it, and muses on how much has changed.


Do not read this if you're worried about hearing what happens in the end of the game – there _are_ spoilers hidden in here. It helps to have knowledge of Tales of Phantasia, but is not absolutely essential.

I hesitate to brand the story even implied Genis/Mithos ... if that's your cup of tea, read it as such; if not, either don't read it or pretend I didn't say anything and that the implications do not exist. It shouldn't be that hard.

Finally, just in case anyone felt any doubt, the characters in this story are the property of Namco and whoever else has control over the Tales of Symphonia and Tales of Phantasia set of games. Gratuitous lyrics from Sounds of Silence and The Dangling Conversation (and gratuitous title) are the property of Simon and Garfunkel, long may they both live and continue to make beautiful music.

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**Still Crazy After All These Years**

_Hello darkness, my old friend ...  
I've come to talk with you again ..._  
.

Far away from all signs of civilization, or even land, from the depths of the ocean rises a tower. It is a plain tower, the few adornments remaining worn almost to the point of being indistinguishable from the structure of the tower itself. It is clear that something once happened here, long ago … the glass dome at the top of the tower has been shattered, as if by some terrible force. But what it was that has happened … that has long since passed from human memory.

A plain tower, clearly abandoned for nearly as long as it has stood there. Its placement made it a curiosity for the three great civilizations, but none was ever able to divine its purpose. Eventually, even curiosity died down, and with it the activity that had briefly enlivened the area. Now, it had returned to its former state. No more visitors … except one.

The sun set slowly as the buzz of the approaching visitor slowly became audible. On the western horizon, nearly invisible at first, appeared a winged apparition that slowly resolved itself into a mechanical birdlike machine and, perched atop it, a man. He maneuvered the machine, its name long since lost to obscurity, with consummate grace, settling down on the ledge supporting the dome and climbing out and up, until he perched on the dome, just below its shattered edge, with as much aplomb as he had used to sit on the machine.

"I'm sorry I haven't visited recently." He said quietly, to the darkening sky. "I can't say that I've been _busy_, precisely … but somehow the time seems to seep away regardless. Lloyd finally died, you know. Well, actually, I'm sure you knew almost as soon as it happened; you two are probably having all sorts of arguments over any manner of things in … well, wherever you ended up. I was there when he died, just by chance – I was in the neighborhood and just happened to drop by. I guess being the son of an angel shields you from some of the effects of aging … but not enough."

He looked down at his hands, and the two matching Exspheres that adorned them, one with a proper Key Crest, the other – his original – set off by the bracelet Lloyd had made for Marble … so very long ago. "Still, I think by that time, despite all his protestations about there being no point in dying, that he was rather glad to leave this world. Tired of living." The hands he observed so idly, clenched. "That reminds me … I have a bit of a bone to pick with you."

"You made them infertile, didn't you? I thought … everyone assumed … that the disease had gone just a bit too far before we managed to reverse it, but that's not true, is it? Colette's inability to have a child … that wasn't because of the disease at all … it was because she became an angel."

"And Lloyd … he was an unanticipated mistake. Something about the Cruxis Crystal creation experiment that you tried on Anna … something allowed them to be fertile. And you chased them down, the traitor and the failure and the miracle that shouldn't have happened. Did your best to rectify your mistake."

"I must admit, it's an ingenious plan … twisted, but perfectly ingenious. You didn't want an age of half-elves at all, did you? That's what you made everyone think … perhaps that's even what would have occurred … but eventually, people would have started dying. And none would have been born in their place. Eventually, there would have been no one left … and we'd all be equal in death."

"I don't suppose I need to even say that I still disagree with you." He ran a hand through silver hair that had lengthened near to his waist in unconscious imitation, over the many passing years. "The world may still be imperfect … but it's better. The elves, well … not surprisingly, they have failed to change at all, as far as I can tell. Still as insular as ever … between you and the incident surrounding Raine's and my abrupt departure, the distaste for half-elves runs so deep … I don't know if they even remember _why_ they once hated us so. But out here among humans … suspicion might remain in isolated pockets, but for the most part we are accepted. Even admired, for our ability to use magic, now that we use it openly and for the greater good. You might even like it here, now."

A shake of the head. "But where was I? Presea, Regal, Zelos, Sheena ... despite Zelos' occasional pretense to the contrary, all had nothing but human blood in their veins. They're all long dead, but their descendants live on – thrive, really. I got to see a lot of Sheena in the early years; she was sent to Iselia as an emissary from Meltokio, as you might recall."

A laugh. "Surprised us all by falling head over heels for Frank. And none of us more shocked, I think, than the two of them – although Colette needed a bit of adjustment to the thought of Sheena as her stepmother. Well, I certainly don't blame her for that. Sheena had more than a little trouble adjusting to the idea of Colette as her stepdaughter, too."

"Presea and Regal … now that was another surprise. We all knew they were working together to help rebuild all the places destroyed by the war – and _Mithos_, there were a lot of them." He blinked. "Funny … how many thousand years has it been, since I learned the truth? Yet I still swear by you … I suppose deep down inside I'll always be the little kid sitting in a classroom in Iselia, dreaming about the grand adventures you must have had."

"But where was I? Presea and Regal … neither of them were ever much for talking, or showing their feelings overly. I still remember when we found out … I received an invitation to their wedding. First I'd ever heard of it, and I was talking to George during the reception – he hadn't had a clue either. Threw us all for a loop, those two did." Another short laugh. "It seems Presea finally got her revenge."

"Raine … she tried the whole 'spreading the message about half-elves' gig – took it a lot more seriously than I ever did. But eventually she finally returned to her roots and went back into teaching. She's a tenured professor at a university in Meltokio." He shook his head. "Sorry … the recent name changes still confuse me. And no, I don't need a reminder that it's been at least a couple hundred years since then. Midgard … it's called Midgard now."

He scratched his head, near the base of his neck. "Oh … they built bridges between Altamira and the mainland. _That_ made travel a lot easier; turned it into an even bigger trading center, since most people don't have Rheairds. Well … these days, no one even remembers they exist, really. Still, it was a very wise decision on the part of – hmm, Presea and Regal's great-granddaughter, it must have been."

"There were a lot of girls in that line, for some reason … so their descendants are scattered all over the place, most of them not even aware of their royal blood – yes, royal. Six, seven hundred years ago it must have been … there got to be some bad blood between the Bryants and the ruling family of Mel – Midgard. So they split off and called themselves kings as well, of Altamira and the surrounding lands. … Alvanista, that is – another one of those pesky name-changes I keep forgetting."

"Who else am I forgetting? Ah, _your_ former companions. Kratos – well, you know what happened to him. Lloyd used to use the Eternal Sword to visit him on certain holidays … that fell off in the last years of his life. Kratos came back not too long after he lost contact with his son … in time to watch over him while he died. I guess he felt, after that, that Derris-Kharlan could watch over itself … or perhaps he simply realized that there was no one left other than us who remembered what he had done … or even his name. We have all been long since lost to obscurity."

"So he never quite made it back to Derris-Kharlan … I've lost track of him for the most part, but I see him occasionally. He wanders the lands, human and elven alike (for even the elves have forgotten, and see only a wandering human swordsman with permanent permission to visit their lands), telling tales of times long past and through his actions, seeking redemption."

"I hear he has a student of sorts now … practically a child, but a child such as I once was, or I imagine you once were, full of dreams and eagerness to learn. He wants to be a summoner, that child … it's a lost art these days, but this Klarth kid may very well revive it someday."

"Yuan, on the other hand, is the same as ever, always sticking his fingers into political pies and arranging things with the best of intentions in mind. He's dyed his hair red – a rather fetching shade of burgundy; it really does look good on him – and goes by Runeglom, these days. Last I heard, he was chief magical advisor to the King of Alvanista. And your sister … I visit Martel every few years. I like to think she's glad of the company; at the very least, it's nice to talk to someone who understands what it's like to be left unmarked by the passing of years. Who seems fated to watch as the world passes by."

"A town has begun to spring up near her forest in recent years … they seem like good enough people, so I've left them alone. They may all be mortal, but I think she enjoys their company, in a different way, all the same." A near-silent hum. "Did I ever tell you how Lloyd renamed the Giant Kharlan Tree?"

A soft laugh. "The sentimental fool ... he named it Yggdrasil. So even as the rest of us are forgotten, a small memory of you will live on, as long as your sister survives."

The young man – for that's what he still looked like, despite his talk of millennia as though they were mere years – leaned back against the dome, gazing at the sky in silence, hands tucked behind his head as he swung his legs idly above the ledge, unconcerned by the fatal drop only inches away.

Finally, he sighed into the dark, eyes staring blankly up at the stars. "I … it's been a long time, Mithos. And I know I should let you go … but I just can't. When I finally die, I will immolate myself; the last remaining Exspheres in the world will die with me. Marble's … Anna's and Lloyd's … that small part of theirs that is also you. But until then, I can't let them … I can't let _you_ go."

"You were my first half-elven friend. And you may have been using me even then, and you may have stolen my body, but just because you had control doesn't mean I wasn't there. I felt your emotions as if they were my own; I _knew _you. And behind the madness, I could see your loneliness, and I could see the person you could have been, if you had walked Lloyd's path."

"And I liked what I saw. I liked _you_ … and in the millennia I have lived and traveled this world, seeking and destroying Exspheres and spreading the idea that to be half-elven does not make you Desian or lower than dirt … I have never found someone I liked more. Elf, human, or those caught in between … Another sigh. I sound like a fool, don't I?"

"It's a beautiful world, despite the remaining bigots; despite the petty wars that never quite die down completely and the hatred that it seems all races must indulge in eventually, for whatever foolish reason. I only wish … I wish you were here see it, too. You said it wasn't your path … you said that you'd still make the choices you made – yes, I still remember; how could I forget? – in order to make a world for your sister and yourself. This _is_ your sister's world … it could have been yours, too."

Almost against his will, his eyes slipped closed. "… and … I wish … it were ours …"

An image slowly flickered into being … a tall blond youth dressed all in white, who bowed his head silently in the direction of the boy who had once been both friend and enemy. But that time had long passed; had been so long ago that even he had been forced into acknowledging its passage. Admitting that … perhaps … he had been wrong.

Just as the shards of his Cruxis Crystal had joined with Lloyd's, some small fragment of his personality – a mere apparition, nothing more – remained as well. And that fragment had been watching … for a very long time.

In his sleep, the silver-haired youth frowned, apparently troubled. The flickering image knelt, attempting to smooth away frown lines with immaterial fingers. Surprised flashed across his face when it seemed almost as if it had worked.

And he remained there, a silent sentinel, until the darkness of the sky began to fade into dawn.

… _As do I …_

.  
_Like a poem poorly written  
We are verses out of rhythm,  
Couplets out of rhyme,  
In syncopated time_

31 January 2005  
.


End file.
